Tune In, Turn On
by alynwa
Summary: Originally written for the Picfic Tuesday Challenge on LJ. The photo is the prompt. Napoleon is dosed with LSD.


When Illya and the Strike Team found Napoleon in THRUSH's Indianapolis satrap, he was strapped to a metal gurney babbling incoherently. As much as he wanted to stay with his partner, Illya knew the best chance of discovering what had been done to him was to stay behind and review the notes of the scientists before destroying the lab. He ordered that Napoleon not be administered any sedatives until he could advise Medical whether or not what was in the American's system would react negatively to another drug.

_Chyort! He's been shot full of LSD! _Illya was well aware of Professor Timothy Leary's advocacy of the use of LSD in psychiatry. Reading over the lead scientist's notes, he recognized that THRUSH had obviously bought into Leary's enthusiasm for the drug, but as a tool for subjugating the human mind to its will. He quickly gathered all of the papers he found, placed them in a briefcase for transport and then methodically placed enough explosives throughout the satrap to blow it into complete non – existence. He set the timers at five minute intervals and left.

The UNCLE jet had been dispatched to return the ailing CEA to New York where he was immediately transported by ambulance to HQ's Medical Unit. Illya flew back to the East Coast commercially and arrived at HQ five hours after his partner. He took his badge from the receptionist and walked quickly through the halls to the elevator bank. Word had already spread that Napoleon Solo had been brought into the building half out of his mind so no one dared speak to the Russian as he passed by.

The doors to Medical swooshed open and he entered and confronted the first nurse he saw. "Where is Agent Solo?" he demanded, causing the startled woman to spin around to face him.

"Oh! Mr. Kuryakin, you scared me!" When he said nothing and just stared at her, she continued, "He's uh, in, in Room Twelve. Doctor Francois wants to speak with you before you see him. He's in his office."

Doctor Albert Francois, the head of UNCLE's Psychiatric Unit was approximately Illya's height, in his mid – 60s with a rather large paunch and a full head of mostly silver hair. A native Frenchman and quite likeable, he and Illya would sometimes converse in French over a cup of tea in the Commissary about their experiences and memories of Paris. However, when the doctor was acting in his professional capacity, Illya usually avoided him like the plague.

Illya knocked on Francois' door and at the command "Enter!" walked into the office and stood stoically in front of the man's large, and rather ornate, desk. "Hello, Albert. How is my partner?"

Dr. Francois picked up a file from his desk and placed his glasses on his nose. "Based on the information you gave me by communicator and our exam, we're certain that Mr. Solo received approximately eight doses of LSD over the course of a week. The good news is: LSD is not physically addictive, so he will not experience any withdrawal symptoms and therefore, we don't have to place him on any type of medication though we will be counseling him to help him deal with the possible psychological ramifications of being under the influence of the drug for so long. The bad news is that there is a possibility that sometime in the future, even years from now, he could experience a 'flashback' meaning that he could go back to what he was feeling while under the influence."

Illya had moved to a chair and slowly lowered himself into it as the doctor spoke. "Are you saying that Napoleon might not be fit to return to field?" he breathed incredulously.

Dr. Francois held up his hand. "Don't jump to conclusions, Illya. As I said, physically he is fine. If he were an Innocent subjected to a weeks' worth of daily LSD trips, I would fear for his sanity. However, as much as I sometimes question Jules Cutter's training techniques, I cannot deny that it builds spectacular levels of mental toughness in you Section IIs. I've spoken to Mr. Waverly about this and he and I think it best that, for now, you assume temporarily Mr. Solo's CEA duties and remain in HQ so that you can have a stabilizing effect on your partner. He will remain in Medical for the foreseeable future. Let the Old Man tell you; he wants you to report to him after you see Napoleon."

Illya nodded and left to see Napoleon. He grimaced in distaste at the sight of his friend secured to the bed, but said nothing to the nurse taking his vitals. He waited off to one side as the nurse went about her business and then, after she left, pulled up a chair and sat facing his partner. "Hello, Napoleon, how are you feeling?" he asked softly as he untied the soft cloth holding the hand closest to him to the railing.

"The air," Napoleon murmured as he held up his hand in wonder, "It's _rippling! _It's so…beautiful." He looked at Illya and smiled. "It looks like water, but it's the air! Illya, can you see it, too?"

"No, I cannot, but I am not the one who has a hallucinogenic in my system." He leaned in to whisper in Napoleon's ear, "Is there anything or anyone that is scaring you, _moy droog?_ Because if there is, I will protect you; you know that, don't you?"

"They tried to get me to forget you, but I kept seeing you and me in my head. We were flowers, then we were kittens and then, _bunnies!"_

Illya laughed in spite of himself. He rubbed Napoleon's shoulder affectionately and replied, "I have to go see Mr. Waverly, but I will be back. I'll be sleeping in here until you are ready to go home."

"Mr. Waverly, I did some reading about LSD while traveling back to New York. While it is true a 'bad trip' can cause problems in the future, Napoleon seems to be in a land of beauty and little furry animals."

"Quite," Mr. Waverly snorted, "Dr. Francois is cautiously optimistic that Mr. Solo will be fully recovered once the drugs are out of his system. You will be in charge of Section II for the time being. You would not have any objection to staying in HQ to keep an eye on him, would you?"

"Not at all. I will have a cot put in his room. I will not fail you as Acting CEA."

"I have no doubt of that, Mr. Kuryakin. Dismissed."

_Six months later…_

Napoleon entered his office and flopped down on the couch. "Partner Mine, I have been officially discharged from psychiatric care! Six months of weekly counseling and the shrinks have determined that I can go resume all my CEA duties and can go back to the field!" He stretched like a cat and added, "That was the last piece; I qualified on the Local Proving Grounds* and the gun range weeks ago."

"I know; I was there," the Russian growled, "I have been going…What is the term? Stir crazy? Yes, stir crazy hanging around HQ for months doing your job and holding your hand. At least, I could start sleeping in my own apartment after you were released from Medical." His eyes were stern, but he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching in an attempt to form a grin.

The two men remained as they were, one at his desk working and the other on the couch seemingly relaxing, until Napoleon sat up and asked, "Illya, do you still trust me to have your back?" When the Russian raised his eyebrows, he added, "Tovarisch, the thought must have crossed your mind. Tell me the truth. Do you?"

"Napoleon, I told Mr. Waverly weeks ago that I would have no qualms going on another mission with you. I trust you. You know this; what is really happening here?"

"What if I, what if the LSD makes me have a hallucination or a flashback? Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it will _never_ happen."

"And, you are worried?"

"Between you, me and the wall; yes, I am a little worried. I mean, I _feel _perfectly fine, but what if…"

"Napoleon, what have we said about 'what ifs?' You will paralyze yourself thinking about what could happen. All we can do is the best we can do. I trust you and I trust my instincts about you. When the Old Man gives us our next assignment, we will do it. Period."

Napoleon smiled. "Thanks, Illya, I needed to hear that." He glanced at his watch. "It's six – thirty, let's go have a drink. My treat."

Illya stood. "I can use one."


End file.
